


Brunch Queen

by gala_apples



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: BDSM, Background Poly, Figging, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Sober Geoff, Sounding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 08:28:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17260925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: Meg has first dibs when Gavin is in Austin, of course. Still, Geoff can usually arrange a brunch date with his favourite Brit, when he needs to.





	Brunch Queen

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 'masturbation' prompt for seasonofkink.
> 
> Note: in this fic Geoff is a dom and Gavin’s not particularly oriented but they make it work. I didn't tag for consent issues because Gavin is well aware that Geoff is coming at everything from a different angle than him. Still, if this squicks you, click back now.

Maybe it’s a little weird, but when you quit drinking it’s not the only thing that stops happening. No peace; shit that’s annoying you have to actually deal with. There’s no need for a puke bucket beside the side table at his bed. He has solid craps and stops not eating. So yeah, it’s sorta fucked up to stop and think and realise how long it’s been since he had a raw asshole, but that’s just where Geoff is in his life. Nostalgic remembrance of a burning ass happens, apparently.

On a whim he uses his Man Of The Internet wiles and finds the nearest grocery store to have correct stock. He makes a trip out and buys what any newly single middle aged man needs. Steak, juice, and lube. And then. Then he buys a hand of ginger.

It takes a few days for it to happen. After all, Gavin’s not always even in the country, and when he is, Meg of course has first dibs. But before Monday he’s inviting Gavin over to the new place for brunch, the fifteenth place Geoff’s lived in his life, he just doesn’t understand people who stay in the same house forever, the people without the motivation to leave home and move to a state that fits them better. Gavin puts a handful of beer bottles on the counter as he dumps his man purse onto the tile. Geoff does his part, puts them in the fridge. Gav may or may not drink, he might not feel like it, but Geoff would never be a straight edge prick about it, addict or not.

“Bring anything good with you?”

“I mean, some extra controllers, so you can start to deck out your set up, but I don’t think that’s what you meant.” One on one hangouts aren’t exclusively sexual, but they both know the ratio is high. Geoff is positive Gavin is anticipating something bedroom related to happen today. And he’s not wrong, is he.

Geoff continues, “because if you don’t have something in mind, I have an idea.”

“Go on, Geoffrey,” Gavin says. He perches on one of the breakfast nook stools, content for whatever show Geoffrey has thought up. At least for the moment. Gavin’s not always the most receptive. It has to capture him immediately or his thoughts wander.

“I’ve been working on this,” Geoff starts, turning to the fridge. The ginger is on a plate beside the cheese. Geoff pulls it out and puts it on the island so he can start carving it. First he cuts into the hand to get out a long finger of ginger. He peels the brown skin off with a paring knife, then shaves down the one knot of the root. 

As the finger is cut, the aroma of ginger fills the air. Geoff wonders if it’s better for him, having a sense memory associated or for Gavin, getting the mystery of it all. Geoff continues slicing the root, this time carving a ring into the thicker end of the finger. Not too deep, damaging the integrity of the ginger would be a bad thing. Just enough to have something to catch onto. Once it’s done, he picks up the hand of ginger and cuts another finger. It takes him a few minutes, but sooner than later he’s got two perfect pieces.

“Now is not a great time to show off that you’ve taken up whittling,” Gavin says, pent up. Evidently the smell alone didn’t do it for him. “Plus, no offence, but it doesn’t really look like anything. You’re a long way from the pumpkin people on Halloween Wars.”

Is Gavin really missing the sex inherent in this situation? Shouldn’t a decade at the company have ruined all vestiges of innocence? Unless he’s heard about it and has just forgot about it. “This is a ginger root, you goddamn slackjaw. I didn’t whittle it, I peeled it. And not that I want to sound like clickbait, but you won’t believe what happens next.”

“Uh,” Gavin starts. But he gets up off the stool, of course, because he’s intrigued and aroused. “What’s up,” he prompts when he’s close enough to Geoff to get the details. 

Geoff knows Gavin. Any second he’s going to pull his phone out and start recording for posterity, unless Geoff heads him off. “Take your clothes off. Okay?”

“Kitchen sex. Cute. It’s been a while for me, it ‘as.” 

Geoff loves watching Gavin strip down, reveal every bit of himself. From the thatch of hair on his chest to the novelty of untattooed skin to the curve of his cock, Geoff finds Gavin the hottest kind of man. “Bend over the counter.”

Gavin makes some ‘sir yes sir’ remark, but he lays himself over the laminate next to the sink so Geoff doesn’t mind the sarcasm. Geoff turns the tap on and soaks the root in cool water. Then, without warning or hesitation, pushes it up into Gavin. Left hand braced against the counter, Geoff does the same to himself next. 

“Sorry about the lack of lube, but it works as a barrier.” 

“I don’t know what you’re on about, and I don’t appreciate no lube shagging, but at least the toy is small.”

“It’s not a toy.” Who the fuck has their sex toys in the kitchen? “It’s the ginger. Gavin, I want you to reach up to the first cabinet and hold onto the shelf.” He’s pushing the limits of orders Gavin will take, but it’s a necessary statement. He can only hope Gavin will accept it.

The cabinets in this condo run the height of the wall. Gavin can reach the uppermost shelf but to do so he has to stretch. His arms are strained and he’s on his tiptoes. More importantly for Geoff’s purposes his thigh and ass cheek muscles are clenched to keep his balance. And when you clench on ginger root only one thing can happen. 

“Geoff? Geoffrey? I think your ginger is funny. It feels like it’s heating up.”

“Yeah it is.” Geoff’s squeezing and releasing his ass in order to catch up with Gavin. Gavin’s already panting, jerky little in and out breaths that sound delicious to Geoff.

“What the hell. It’s supposed to?” 

Geoff pulls on the uncarved end of the bulb until the root slides mostly out of Gavin, then pushes it back in. “Just trust me, little buddy. This is going to be good.” Or at least broaden his horizons. Who needs good and easy when you have unique?

Gavin snakes his hand between himself and the counter, presumably to touch himself as distraction. Geoff wrenches his arm back up, puts his fingers back on the shelf. “Wait. It gets better.”

“Who’s bloody definition of better?” Gavin squawks.

“Look, if you really don’t like this, tap out. Say no. Otherwise, trust me.”

Gavin doesn’t ask him to stop. Geoff feels victorious for it, not that he wouldn’t have respected Gavin’s choice either way. Instead Gavin stands there, really beginning to wiggle. He must be feeling it, just like Geoff is. Geoff watches with ravenous intent as Gavin’s fingers clench on the shelf, so hard his knuckles whiten. He’s so fuckin’ _lucky_ , to be the witness to Gavin’s first time. There’s no question that figging can get intense, but at least Geoff knows what’s coming, can prepare himself. For Gavin, each second of it is the newest extreme. Each second he’s never been so hot before, and it just _keeps going_. The reaction to that kind of stimulus is one of Geoff’s favourite things about the BDSM scene.

“Geoff!” Gavin gasps all at once. Geoff’s heart flips, knowing that he’s making Gavin lose it.

“Yeah, babe?”

“I don’t think I can stand up much longer. I can’t-”

Geoff knows how much admitting that has to be killing Gavin. It’s part of their office culture. Never back down from any insane event, never show weakness when it comes to bizarre shit. Complain, the more theatrically the better, but never actually quit. Geoff wants to support him in the way Gavin’ll accept it easiest: total nonchalance. “Nah, you got this. But let’s take it to the couch, alright? Give the shaking a chance to calm down.”

Experience has taught him that it’ll get much worse before it gets better, but that’s not what Gavin will want to hear. Besides, Geoff could use the opportunity to sit down too. With some sense of foresight, Geoff grabs the plate and the knife. It seems like madness now, but he knows the intensity will fade, and maybe before they’re ready. He backs up a step from Gavin and waits to see if he crumples and really does need help transporting himself. 

Gavin takes a few steps, breath catching in his throat with each footfall. Then he stops. “It’s moving in me while I walk.”

“I know. Just feel it. We’re almost to the couch,” Geoff assures, trying to keep easy while the ginger fucks itself into him with each stride.

They collapse on the micro suede, roots driving into them as their weight settles. “Put your knees up,” Geoff says. Gavin is in too deep to not trust him now, so he draws up his limbs and braces them on the edge of the couch. Geoff loves the way the position pushes his knees apart. He props his own legs on the coffee table for less of a bend of knee. He’s not as young as he used to be.

“You think-” Gavin breaks his own thought with a whimper. “Munking off would be distracting, right?”

Geoff has been single long enough to have started settling into lax comfort. He opens the cabinet on the side of the couch and pulls out a three quarters empty bottle of lube. He lives alone, he can store items where best suited to him, appropriateness not a factor. 

“Only a little bit, Gav,” he warns as he hands it over. “You don't want it to drip down your taint. You might as well see this out, right?”

“Geoffrey. Shite.”

Geoff doesn’t want to risk giving Gavin an order to stay put. As much as Geoff is a Dom, Gavin is firmly not of the lifestyle. Too much and he’ll reject it. Geoff’s been sleeping with him enough to know that. No, instead he just slides off the couch and hopes Gavin doesn’t move.

Geoff gets on his knees at the base of the couch. He pulls the ginger plug out of Gavin and leans in, head between Gavin’s knees. He blows on Gavin’s still dilated asshole, lips far enough away that the hot air cools before reaching skin. Gavin yelps and his legs buck. Geoff exhales a second time, really reveling in Gavin’s knees jumping in towards his chest. His wettened hand is completely still on his cock, concept of jerking off utterly annihilated by the temperature play.

“Oh my god Geoff. What the fuck.”

“I know. I know. It’s so cold, you’re so sensitive and you feel empty. I’ll warm you back up, I promise.”

Working quickly, Geoff carves the outermost layer of the ginger off. By the time he’s done the finger’s not much smaller, but it’s newly gleaming with moisture. He pushes it back through the ring of Gavin’s ass. The fresh juice hits the skin of his hole and if Geoff thought he was moving before, well, now Gavin’s completely lost it. His feet have slipped to the floor. His hands are in his hair, the dry one and the lube covered one, because at a time like this mess is the furthest thing from anyone’s mind. Gavin undulates his pelvis from side to side like he’s trying to dislodge a baby crocodile. It’s so primally hot Geoff can’t bring himself to look away to deal with his own drying piece of ginger. Not until Gavin’s thrusting becomes a little less wild. 

Geoff takes a big shuddering inhale when his fresh ginger replaces the old then gets back on the couch. His ass is burning and he’s got no choice except to start jerking off. Within seconds he’s breaking out into a whole new sweat. He must be seven levels deep now in perspiration. 

“Come on Gavin, munk off.”

Gavin throws his head from side to side so tortuously slowly it almost doesn’t come off as a negative. 

“Come on. You’ll feel better.” Geoff takes Gavin’s right hand in his left and places it on Gavin’s erection. In a loose grip he starts to push his hand up and down the shaft. Gavin gasps for air, overwrought, but when Geoff stops assisting Gavin keeps going, keeps jerking it. Geoff swells with something like pride. Misplaced, sure. Gavin isn’t doing this for him, like a good little sub would. Gavin likes this, is doing this for himself. But Geoff still feels it, that sense of being given a gift.

If he’s being given a present he wants to give back. Geoff throws his forearm on Gavin’s thigh and angles his wrist sharply so he can put his fingertips on the base of the makeshift plug. He presses his fingers just enough to get the root to move almost in place, tugging his rim with it. Gavin heaves for air like a dying fish but keeps jerking off. Geoff strips his own cock as fast as he can, scent of freshly poured lube temporarily overcoming the scent of ginger permeating the air.

Geoff is ready for the last level of this. The boss level of figging, one could say. He resigns himself to stopping jerking it, for the time being. Only acceptable because he knows what he’s about to give himself, through Gavin’s participation. The hand of ginger has one last finger. It’s a short one, not good for penetration, but that’s not what Geoff needs right now. What he needs is a thin bit, like a matchstick.

Concentrating on anything other than the searing heat of his ass is difficult, but Geoff does his best to neatly julienne a chunk from the root. It’s maybe an eighth of an inch wide, a little over an inch long. No sharp edges, of course. Then, with the greatest love and care, Geoff begins to slide it into Gavin’s dickhole. The moment he realizes where Geoff’s going with it Gavin starts to whimper. Geoff holds back for a second, watching for any sign of reluctance or negativity, but there’s nothing. That’s Gavin Free for you. Complainer extraordinaire, but always following through in the clutch.

Shifting on the couch to face Gav, Geoff pushes the ginger a few millimeters deeper. Based on Gavin’s expression, he’s slung a torpedo thousands of miles. It’s a face Geoff won’t soon forget. He’s traded most of their skin to skin contact for the chance to really look at Gavin, and he’s happy with that choice.

Gavin continues stroking his dick as Geoff uses two fingers to hold the ginger in place at his cockhead. Their pinkies bump on each stroke. It’s bizarrely intimate. Somehow them both taking care of Gavin is more sexual than Geoff giving him a handie himself would be. Soon enough Gavin is so overstimulated he’s losing coherency. There are no more words, only an unrelenting whining. And there are tears streaming down Gavin’s face. It might be the hottest thing Geoff’s ever seen, but he knows better than to say something so Dom. Instead he keeps his dumb mouth shut and enjoys the display before him.

Gavin grunts when he comes. It sounds like he’s been punched in the gut. Geoff keeps pistoning his dick in his hand, so fucking close to getting there himself. He can’t make up his mind on this visual feast: the come spilling erratically past the thin ginger sound, or Gavin’s tear streaked cheeks, flushed red from inner heat. When he finally orgasms -maybe thirty seconds after Gav, but it feels like he’s been straining for a hundred years- he spurts onto Gavin, striping his thigh and spent cock. He wonders if Gavin feels so overheated the spunk feels cool on his skin.

Whether or not Gavin is the sub to his Dom, it’s still Geoff’s responsibility to care for his partners. He removes the ginger sound first, knowing it’s by far the more sensitive device. The plug comes next, thankfully small enough that there’s no resistance from Gavin’s hole. Geoff discards his own on the plate last, hissing slightly as he stands up. The plate goes on the kitchen counter, a mess to be dealt with later, and Geoff brings a dampened cloth back with him. Normally after a scene this intense he’d want to get his partner a blanket, but with the way they’ve both been sweating it wouldn’t be a comfort. He’ll have to make do with wiping Gav’s face, tears and sweat alike swept away.

“So what the fuck do I do now? Pour milk up my ass?” Gavin bitches, back to the less vulnerable bloke he usually is, back to ‘I’ll do anything for the camera as long as I can gripe’. 

“If you really want to get into enema play today, we can,” Geoff threatens. It’s a ninety percent empty threat. If Gavin ever did want to -if any partner ever did- Geoff would be down for trying it out. But he’s already had his kinky experience of the day. Before lunch, no less. He doesn’t need to throw rubber tubing and spreader bars into this particular mix.

“Jesus Molly, no.” Gavin answers affronted. “And what was that whole thing called, you said? Ginger shagging?”

“It’s called figging, Gavvers.” Geoff doesn’t push his luck, doesn’t add a smarmy comment about being glad Gavin liked it. “Hey. Once we catch our breath a little, want to share a ten egg omelette?”

“That’d be top!”

Geoff nods his smile, but doesn’t get up again quite yet. He just needs a moment to enjoy everything. The lingering burn of ginger, the smell of come in the air, Gavin’s pretty nudity. At work there’s a special sort of satisfaction that comes from seeing an idea progress and flourish. The dirty, bedroom variant of that feeling is fucking filthy spectacular.


End file.
